


i missed you more than i thought i would

by drunkonwriting



Series: shinichi weekend 2020 [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23382715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkonwriting/pseuds/drunkonwriting
Summary: “And why every time we go out for a group thing, you guys come together and leave together?” Uryuu leaned into Ichigo’s face and started listing off things on his fingers. “You guys share more food than I’ve ever seen in my life, he knows exactly what you want in your coffee and always remembers to get it for you, when you got the flu last winter he stayed with you every day and fed you soup, both of you get absolutely unbearable if anyone tries to pick you up when we go out dancing, and you are wearing his shirt right now.”prompts: didn’t know they were dating, scent obsession (mild), a lacuna/an absence
Relationships: Hirako Shinji/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: shinichi weekend 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681810
Comments: 5
Kudos: 246
Collections: ShinIchi Weekend 2020





	i missed you more than i thought i would

**Author's Note:**

> set in a no-powers au. not really explained in fic, but my personal headcanon for this one is that ishida and Ichigo are childhood friends and ishida is a elementary school teacher. (why? because i can.) shinji is a psych major, obvs. 
> 
> day 2: didn’t know they were dating, scent obsession (mild), a lacuna/an absence

“Please tell me this is almost over.”

Ichigo’s head hit the chabudai with a loud thunk. He pressed his face into the wood until he started seeing stars, trying to push back the migraine that had been threatening ever since that morning.

“You only have yourself to blame for this.” Uryuu sounded entirely unimpressed. “You could have been free of exams by now if you hadn’t decided to be a doctor.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes as he peeled his face away from the table. Uryuu had been clear about his disappointment from the moment Ichigo had chosen medicine. It was hardly Ichigo’s fault that both of their bastard fathers were doctors.

“It wasn’t like I could do anything else,” he said crossly. “And, you know what? I _would_ rather do this than try to manage thirty brats for most of my day.”

Uryuu sniffed. “That’s pretty high and mighty for someone who came crawling on his hands and knees to beg me to help him review,” he said.

“I didn’t _beg_ —”

“You did.” Shinji slid into the seat on Ichigo’s right, putting a cup of coffee a safe distance away from the mountain of papers and textbooks that covered the chabudai. “It was fuckin’ embarrassing. You’re supposed to be a grown man now, Ichi.”

Ichigo glared at him but reached for the coffee. He grimaced as he took a sip.

“Where’s the—”

“I got your precious sugar, princess.” A couple of packets were tossed at his head. Shinji grinned at him. “You need to buy more. Had to look all over the kitchen just for that.”

Ichigo ripped the packets, dumping it into the coffee. “You didn’t pick up any when you went?”

“I got your gross potatoes, didn’t I?”

“Sweet potatoes aren’t _gross_ —”

“ _Anyway_.” Ichigo wondered if Uryuu used that voice in the classroom; the kids were probably scared stiff of it. Ichigo, on the other hand, had known Uryuu since they were little brats themselves and was pretty much immune. “We need to keep going if we’re going to get through all of your notes before eight o’clock, so…”

That trail-off seemed meaningful, but Ichigo had no idea what Uryuu was getting at. He blinked, taking another drag of the coffee.

“So?” he asked. “Let’s get on with it then. My brain’s pretty much turning into mush, we need to cram as much as we can into it before it’s gone completely.”

Uryuu sighed. “Of course,” he said. “Well, then. Ichigo, list some common post-surgical complications and their treatments.”

Ichigo sighed and rolled his neck. He winced at the ache that twinged out from between his shoulder blades; he’d been studying so much he was pretty sure there was a permanent lump there now from stress and bad posture. He spent a minute thinking, rolling his shoulders to try and alleviate some of the tension.

“Do you want a neck rub?”

Ichigo blinked. Shinji just stared back at him with his usual fixed smile.

“Yeah, actually,” he said. “Would you mind?”

Shinji laughed and shifted to settle in behind Ichigo’s back. Ichigo turned his attention back to the question at hand. He shivered a little when Shinji’s hands settled on the vulnerable curve of his neck but relaxed as the steady pressure of them relieved some of the build-up of tension in the worst spot on his neck. He rattled off as many post-surgery complications as he could remember, cobbling together some treatment plans. It got easier the longer he talked, though half of his attention was on the nice pressure on his shoulders.

When he looked to Uryuu to check how he’d done, he was on the end of a disbelieving stare. Ichigo blinked, taken aback. Had he said something unbelievably stupid? Uryuu usually only looked at him when Ichigo did something reckless, like starting bar fights or trying to take on the local mafia.

“What?” he asked. “Did I forget one?”

“No,” Uryuu said. His tone was strangely clipped. “You didn’t forget. Walk me through the opening stages for an appendectomy.”

Ichigo eyed him, but Uryuu didn’t say anything else. Mentally shrugging, he decided that whatever it was, he’d hear about it soon enough.

* * *

“You two are _unbelievable_ , you know that?”

Ichigo turned around. He had just closed the door after Shinji, who was heading out to grab dinner for them at the little Korean place around the corner that they both liked. He frowned at Uryuu, who was gathering his things with jerky motions.

“What are you talking about? I thought you were staying for dinner?”

Uryuu threw him a disbelieving look. “Stay for _dinner_? Are you kidding?”

“What? Uryuu, what the hell—”

“I just broke up with Orihime, you know, and I know you think I’m some kind of ice bastard but it’s actually been unbelievably painful.”

Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course I know that, but why—”

“So to have you sit here all afternoon and just—just _throw_ your perfect fucking relationship in my face is actually just—”

“ _Relationship_?”

Ichigo didn’t realize how loudly he’d said it until Uryuu fell quiet. They stared at each other. Uryuu’s anger seemed to fade a little and he slowly set his bag down.

“Ichigo—”

“What relationship?” Ichigo asked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I haven’t—there hasn’t been anyone in years, you know that. Since Rukia—”

“Ichigo. You cannot be serious.”

“Uryuu, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about right now.”

“What the hell I’m— _Hirako_ , that’s what I’m talking about! You two have been together for years!”

Ichigo burst out laughing. When Uryuu didn’t laugh with him, he trailed off.

“Now I _know_ you’re crazy. Shinji’s not my _boyfriend_! We’re just—we’re friends, that’s it!”

Uryuu’s disbelieving stare was making Ichigo’s stomach curdle. “You know there’s no need to hide it from me,” he said stiffly. “Hirako may not be my favorite person in the world, but he’s good for you. I’m—just seeing you two together after Orihime is a little hard, that’s all. But I don’t have a _problem_ with it, Ichigo.”

“You’d better _not_ have a problem,” Ichigo said automatically, then groaned, rubbing at his face. “But it doesn’t matter if you do or not because Shinji and I are _not together_.”

Uryuu snorted. “Ichigo, you—”

“Uryuu. Look at me.” When he was sure he had Uryuu’s full attention, Ichigo said, with every ounce of seriousness he could muster, “We are _not together_.”

Uryuu still looked disbelieving for a moment. Then, as Ichigo kept his expression firm, his eyes widened. He slowly sat down on Ichigo’s couch. Ichigo, relieved that Uryuu had finally listened to him, crossed the room and sat down next to him.

“You’re _not_?” Uryuu asked.

“Of course not. Shinji’s just a friend. One of my best friends, sure, but not my boyfriend. He would never see me like that.” Ichigo laughed a little. “I can’t believe you thought that!”

Uryuu turned toward him. Something weird was happening to his face, a cross between a frown and a thoughtful scowl.

“Can’t believe I _thought_ —How could I _not_ think that?”

“What?”

“Oh my God,” Uryuu muttered. “Fine. Ichigo, how often does Shinji stay here?”

Ichigo frowned. “Most nights, I guess. He doesn’t like his roommate, says they’re too loud or something.”

“Oh? Is that why he does all your grocery shopping?”

“Well, I just don’t like—”

“And why he does all the laundry?”

“Hey, _he_ likes doing—”

“And why every time we go out for a group thing, you guys come together and leave together?” Uryuu leaned into Ichigo’s face and started listing off things on his fingers. “You guys share more food than I’ve ever seen in my life, he knows exactly what you want in your coffee and always remembers to get it for you, when you got the flu last winter he stayed with you every day and fed you soup, both of you get absolutely unbearable if anyone tries to pick you up when we go out dancing, and _you are wearing his shirt right now_.”

Ichigo looked down. The shirt _had_ been a little tight on him when he put it on this morning, now that he thought about it. There was some cartoon on the front that he didn’t recognize. He’d pulled it from his own shirt drawer.

“How do _you_ know that?” he asked, becoming more and more uncomfortable.

“Because _I_ got into an argument with him last week about that show when _he_ was wearing it and he said he’d had it for six years. Ichigo, did you hear everything else I said? What was I supposed to think, when you guys act like that?”

“We’re just close!” Ichigo said.

“He calls you _Ichi_.”

“So? I’ve got lots of friends who call me nicknames. Hell, Grimmjow—”

“Don’t start about _him_ , he’s a nutcase. Ichigo, we’ve been friends since we were five and _we_ don’t do half the things you do with Hirako, okay? He just spent the afternoon giving you a neck rub and sniffing your hair like some sort of creepy pervert.”

“Sniffing my _hair_ —?”

“Can you see why I’d think that, now?”

“No!”

Uryuu made a low, frustrated noise, rubbing hard at the bridge of his nose. “Go ask anyone who knows the two of you, then. They’ll tell you the same thing I am—literally _everyone_ thinks you’re together.”

Ichigo stared. He thought back over his friends and family, taking in their interactions with new eyes. Slowly, realization dawned. If they all believed Ichigo was with Shinji… Was that why Chad always looked disappointed when Ichigo went dancing with someone when they went out for drinks? Was that why Renji had always made some crack about saying hello to the little housewife when he was heading home after class? Oh, God… Was that why his dad had bought couples’ dinnerware when Ichigo moved into his apartment last year?

“Holy shit,” Ichigo breathed out.

“I cannot _believe_ this,” Uryuu said. “You’ve been in a healthier relationship than me and you’re not even actually _dating_.”

“But Shinji’s—Shinji. He wouldn’t…”

Ichigo had never thought about Shinji like that, not really. Shinji was unbelievably out of his league and Ichigo had come to terms with that a long time ago. Having the odd thought of how nice Shinji looked with his hair tied back or the way his shirt clung to his shoulders was fine, but they would never actually _date_.

There was a knock at the door. Ichigo stood to get it, still reeling.

“Sorry, too much to carry,” Shinji said, pushing past Ichigo into the apartment, arms laden with takeout bags and drinks. “Couldn’t get the knob. Help me lay it out.”

Ichigo had no idea how to act, what to say. Ten minutes ago, everything had been normal and now he knew that everyone around them seemed to think they were boyfriends. He shot a panicked look at Uryuu, who just gave him an unimpressed glare. Shinji was spreading food on the table, seemingly oblivious.

“I got extra kimchi,” he said. “And I made sure they didn’t add any green peppers. Come on, it’s best when it’s hot. Oh, and their cat finally had its kittens.”

“Kwan? How many did she have?”

“Four. Mr. Hak says we can have one when they’re old enough.”

Ichigo was intensely aware of Uryuu watching them and flushed a little. “We don’t need a kitten,” he said. “I’m barely ever home.”

“I can help out until it's old enough to be alone.” Shinji sat back on his heels, presenting their meal with a flourish. “Come on, let’s eat!”

Ichigo sat. He tried to shove his tension and increasing awareness of Shinji’s closeness away by grabbing the nearest plate and stuffing his face. He gagged a little at the spiciness.

“Oi, oi, that’s mine, come on—” The plate was taken away and replaced with another one. “Here, eat this. You like their noodles, right? Ishida, aren’t you eating?”

“I have somewhere to be,” Uryuu said. “Ichigo, remember what I said.”

“What?” Shinji looked between them, brow furrowing a little. “Did he have some great advice for passing your finals or something?”

“Or something,” Uryuu agreed. He finally sounded a little amused as he collected his bag and moved to the door. “I’ll let Ichigo decide if he’s going to share it or not. See you next week.”

He left before Ichigo could throw anything at him. Ichigo stuffed his mouth with noodles as Shinji turned curious eyes on him. He felt hyperaware of Shinji, suddenly obsessed with how close Shinji’s knee was to his, the brush of their shoulders, the faint scent of the citrus body wash he liked so much.

“What’s he on about, then?” Shinji asked.

Ichigo almost told him. He could say it and they could laugh about it and move on with their lives. _Uryuu thought we were dating_ , he would say and Shinji would smile and they could talk about how absurd it was and that would be that. But even as he was opening his mouth, a cold feeling washed through his stomach.

“Nothing,” he said instead. “It was just some tips on studying from the textbook. Nothing special.”

Shinji eyed him. He seemed to know that Ichigo wasn’t saying everything, but Ichigo just pointedly returned to his noodles. He could still feel Shinji’s gaze on his bent head.

“All right, then,” Shinji said at last. “Pass the pork?”

* * *

It was because he couldn’t bear the thought of Shinji actually laughing at the idea, Ichigo decided nearly a week later in the middle of his kickboxing lessons.

Kickboxing—and really all of the martial arts Ichigo had been taking since he was basically old enough to walk—was soothing. He went through the relentless physical aggression without even needing to think about it and his brain could wrestle with other, more important problems; like what to do about Shinji.

He’d thought for a long time about why he hadn’t been able to tell Shinji what Uryuu had told him. Finally, he’d realized; even just imagining Shinji laughing about them being boyfriends made Ichigo’s heart hurt. It was one thing to know that there would never be anything more between them, to know just how unattainable Shinji was—it was another thing entirely to have Shinji throw it in his face how little he’d ever thought about wanting Ichigo.

He’d wished more than once over the week that Uryuu had never told him. Because now things that had been common and soothing, like making Shinji breakfast or going together to take a look at Mr. Hak’s new kittens, had suddenly become fraught with tension. Ichigo couldn’t stop being aware of Shinji in a way he hadn’t been since the very early days of their friendship when Ichigo had all but thrummed out of his skin every time Shinji had touched him.

It was worse, too, seeing the proof in Uryuu’s words all around them. Mr. Hak greeted them together and asked if they wanted their usual lunch. The cashier at the supermarket around the corner asked after his sweet blond friend. The convenience store clerk checked that he didn’t also want to order Shinji’s favorite croquet when he went in for a coffee between classes. More than one of his friends had checked in with Ichigo that Shinji would be coming for their weekly dinner that weekend and Ichigo had found not one but _eight_ different shirts in his drawers that he was sure were Shinji’s.

Ichigo had gone through the week in a daze. Finals were around the corner but he could barely put his attention to them, too caught up in the idea that he’d apparently been dating Shinji all this time without even _knowing about it_.

The more he actually thought about his routine, the more he couldn’t believe he’d noticed. They had _date nights_ , for God’s sake. They went out Thursday nights together, usually to a restaurant or sometimes to the movies because it was the only night Shinji didn’t work at his parttime job and Ichigo didn’t have an early morning class. Just last week they’d gone to a nice Italian place because Shinji had had a craving for pizza. There had been _candles_ on their table. Shinji had _paid_.

Ichigo was an idiot.

More than that, he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to tell Shinji, but he found it impossible to just go back to the way things were and let it continue on. He couldn’t shut off his own awareness of the situation and it was making him act crazy. Just yesterday, he’d nearly jumped out of his skin because Shinji touched his hand to get his attention.

Ichigo finished off his workout and bent over his knees, taking deep, careful breaths. He stood with a sigh, stretching out sore muscles and feeling a little better for the exercise. What he really needed, he admitted to himself as he made his way to the communal baths, was space. Some time without Shinji around, to really _think_. But even though he knew he needed it, he didn’t _want_ to do it. He liked having Shinji around; he had ever since they’d met in their first year of university. But Ichigo couldn’t think with him around, not now.

Space, he told himself firmly. He’d take a week and really think it through. Get through finals and then… then he’d figure out what he had to do.

* * *

Taking space was easier said than done when it came down to it. Ichigo had never realized just how entangled Shinji was in his day to day life until he tried to actively avoid him. He used the excuse of finals like a shield—it kept Shinji from coming to stay with him like he almost always did, and helped get Ichigo out of their usual lunch meet-ups and after class hangouts. What was more damning was that Ichigo was suddenly aware of how much he depended on Shinji. He’d turn to hear his snarky one-liner about some local kids making a scene and realize that Shinji wasn’t there or he’d go to ask where the hell the detergent was only to find an empty room. It was harder than he’d expected, to not have Shinji around all the time. Ichigo had expected to miss him, but he hadn’t expected how fiercely he’d want to tell Shinji things, to ask him questions, to laugh and joke with him.

In the supermarket, he stared at the row of detergent bottles. He didn’t know what bottle Shinji bought that always made all their clothes smell a little lemony. Shinji had always insisted on doing laundry—it was one of the chores he most enjoyed, though Ichigo had no idea why. Ichigo had just let him, content to not have to deal with the business of cleaning clothes. But now he was down to his last shirt and he was supposed to be so busy that Shinji couldn’t come to stay at his apartment.

Ichigo was pretty sure it was the stress of finals that was making him feel so choked up over detergent. It had to be. He cleared his throat several times and told himself firmly that he was not going to cry like a lunatic in the laundry soap aisle. He would just pick one that looked okay and it would be fine. He didn’t need his clothes to smell like lemons anyway.

He looked at the bottles again. All of them looked wrong. Ichigo started to reach for one, then pulled back four times before he sighed in defeat and opened his phone.

Shinji picked up on the second ring. “Thought you were studying.”

His tone was strange, almost guarded. Ichigo flushed with guilt. He’d thought Shinji hadn’t seen through his flimsy excuses of being too busy with finals to meet up, but clearly he had.

“I’m… I needed to go to the store,” Ichigo said. “What detergent do you usually buy?”

A long pause. Ichigo shifted from foot to foot, ignoring the curious look of another customer who had just turned the corner into the aisle.

“ _You’re_ doing laundry? Really?”

“I can do laundry!” Ichigo straightened, indignation winning out over his awkwardness. “Just because I’m not some kind of freak like you—”

“You wash everything together, Ichi. Like a crazy person.”

“I’ve done that for _years_ , okay? It was always fine!”

“You’re _supposed_ to—”

“—separate my whites from my darks, blah, blah, blah,” Ichigo rolled his eyes, relaxing a little at the familiar argument. “You always say that. Can you just tell me which detergent I’m supposed to buy now?”

“Look for a little yellow bottle. Should be near the end of the aisle.”

Ichigo searched and found it. He smiled at the lemon logo stamped on the side.

“You should get fabric softener too,” Shinji said. “We’re almost out of that.”

“What do we need to get fabric softener for?”

“You _heathen_.”

“You’re a drama queen,” Ichigo said. “I’ll get your precious fabric softener, okay? Anything else we need to do laundry? You don’t use those smelly bead things, do you?”

“Oh, _yes_ I do. Get some of the lavender ones, they smell the best.”

“I’m beginning to understand why laundry is your job,” Ichigo said, obediently grabbing a bottle of the smelly bead things that were tinted light purple. “This isn’t washing clothes, it’s chemistry.”

“That’s why only smart people like me, _who separate their whites from their darks_ , are allowed to do it in our household.”

“I think we’ve got a _dictator_ in our household,” Ichigo said. “Anything else I should get while I’m here?”

“Grab some peanut butter.”

“Now _that’s_ gross.”

“I refuse to take judgment from someone who eats so much shrimp.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll get your peanut butter. See you at home?”

Ichigo froze even as it slipped out. He hadn’t meant to say it—he was supposed to be avoiding Shinji, not inviting him over! But Shinji sounded so pleased as he answered.

“Sure. I’ll be there in twenty. Takeout?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Ichigo hung up the phone. He took a deep breath. So much for avoidance, he thought wryly. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see another customer grinning at him.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be creepy,” she said, holding up a bottle of detergent. “I was just here to get my laundry stuff. I just wanted to give you a little solidarity! My boyfriend always tells me that thing about whites and darks, it drives me up the wall.”

Ichigo stiffened. Oh god. “Yeah,” he said. “Some people are so crazy about how they do laundry, huh?”

The lady winked at him. “They’re lucky we put up with them! Anyway, if your girlfriend is really that strict about laundry, you should get that brand of fabric softener instead.” She pointed at a more expensive bottle. “It’s pricier, but it’s really nice for clothes. My boyfriend swears by it.”

“Thanks,” Ichigo said and she nodded with a smile, walking off.

Ichigo didn’t bury his head in his hands or lay down on the floor like he wanted to. Instead, like the adult he was, he picked out the more expensive fabric softener and grimly went to meet his fate.

* * *

Shinji was waiting at his door, arms laden with food again. He looked strangely nervous, shifting from foot to foot and not quite meeting Ichigo’s eyes as he led them inside and they began setting out the food.

“So,” Shinji said after they’d eaten in silence for nearly five minutes. Ichigo was beginning to freak out, though he was doing his best to keep it under wraps. “Heard you got coffee with Chad yesterday.”

A flush climbed up the back of Ichigo’s neck. Fuck. “I had some questions for him,” he said.

Questions like _why didn’t you tell me it looked like I was dating my best friend_. Chad had been honest about it, at least—he hadn’t wanted to make some big deal out of it and he’d looked pretty depressed to find out that Ichigo and Shinji weren’t actually dating.

“Hm,” Shinji said. “Thought you were too busy to hang out. What with all your… studying.”

Ichigo squirmed. Shinji had some uncanny way of ramping up Ichigo’s guilt with just the tone of his voice. He didn’t sound angry, but the way he wouldn’t look at Ichigo and his deliberate lack of inflection said he was. Ichigo didn’t know how to explain. He had a feeling if he said he was avoiding Shinji it wouldn’t make him any happier.

“It was kind of important,” Ichigo said finally, picking at his noodles.

He was such a hopeless liar. Shinji gave him a disbelieving side-eye, not even smiling a little. Oh, fuck.

“Really?” Shinji turned to look at him full-on. “What did you ask him about, then?”

Ichigo was usually pretty good under pressure, but his mind was absolutely blank. He wished that someone, anyone would knock on the door right now and spare him from having to have this conversation, but no one came spontaneously to his rescue.

“I…”

Ichigo swallowed at the look on Shinji’s face. God, he looked hurt. Ichigo had rarely ever seen Shinji show any vulnerability—if he was doing it now, it meant that Ichigo really _had_ hurt him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was _not_ what Ichigo meant to do.

“What’s _happening_ to you?” Shinji burst out. “You’re—having all these secret talks with Ishida and Chad and I haven’t seen you for four days or even _heard_ from you and now you can barely look at me—”

“Shinji—”

“No, don’t pull some bullshit story, Kurosaki! Tell me what’s going on!”

Oh, God. “Uryuu thought we were dating.”

Silence. Ichigo couldn’t bear to look at Shinji’s face but he forced himself to check. He cringed. Shinji was staring at him, wide-eyed, mouth open. Ichigo had never seen him taken so off-guard before.

“I’m sorry,” Shinji said. “I think there’s something in my ears. You didn’t just say Ishida thought we were dating, did you?”

Ichigo braced himself. In for a penny, he thought. “That’s right,” he said, trying and failing to sound brazen instead of terrified. “He threw this big hissy fit because he thought we were being all—all lovey-dovey in front of him after his break-up. Pretty stupid, huh?”

“Lovey-dovey?”

Shinji sounded totally out of his depth. Ichigo really just wanted the ground to swallow him whole. At least, he thought morosely, Shinji wasn’t laughing about it. That would definitely be worse.

“Yeah. And he said… he said we kept acting like a couple. That’s what the secret talk with him was about.”

Shinji’s eyes narrowed. “And Chad?”

“I was asking him about it,” Ichigo said. “You know he thought we’d been together for two years? Why the hell didn’t he _say_ anything?”

He gave Shinji the same beseeching look he must’ve hundreds of times—the one they’d shared over Renji’s loud drunkenness, Uryuu’s fastidiousness, and Orihimie’s strange lunches, the look that invited Shinji to share in his wry disbelief. But Shinji was still looking at Ichigo like he’d never seen him before. Ichigo shifted, uncomfortable under that blatant stare.

“What?” he asked. “Look, I _told_ them we’re not together. You don’t need to worry.”

“‘m not worried,” Shinji said. “Why’d you tell them that?”

Ichigo raised his eyebrows. He was feeling so out of his depth here.

“Because we’re _not together_ ,” he said slowly.

“Ichi,” Shinji said, also very slowly. “The only reason we’re not together is because you’re pretty much an idiot.”

Ichigo’s mouth dropped open. He was somewhere between indignation and shock.

“What the fuck?” he said. “Excuse you, I am _not_ an—”

“Ichi.” That was definitely laughter bubbling up in Shinji’s voice, but Ichigo wasn’t hurt by the sound of it—he was too struck by the way Shinji’s eyes were lighting up, as if he was bursting on the inside with joy. “Can I finally kiss you?”

Ichigo froze. Shinji stared back at him, still smiling a little.

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“But you—you’re—” Ichigo shook his head, stomach knotting. “Don’t do this out of some kind of fucking—pity or if you think this is just a big joke—”

“Ichigo.”

“I know you think everything’s a laugh, Shinji, but this isn’t funny, okay, you know that I—”

“—have a big ol’ crush on me?”

Ichigo flushed to the roots of his hair. “I do _not_ ,” he spit out, bristling.

Shinji laughed and reached out to put a gentle hand on Ichigo’s jaw. Ichigo shivered reflexively under his touch and scowled. Shinji tapped a finger against the furrow in Ichigo’s forehead and he looked fond.

“You’re gonna have so many wrinkles when you’re an old geezer, you know,” he said.

“I think wrinkles come with the old geezer territory,” Ichigo said. “You really want to kiss me?”

“Ichigo, I’ve wanted to kiss you since we met. You’re seriously dumb, huh?”

Ichigo was thinking back over the past six years in an entirely new light now, so he was little distracted when he said, “I’m not _dumb_.” He blinked. Shinji’s face was closer than it had been. He smelled of his citrus body wash and the noodles they’d been eating. “You really mean it?”

Shinji rolled his eyes. Ichigo scowled forcefully at him.

“I’ve spent the last six years systematically worming my way into your life,” Shinji said, utterly calm. “Yes, I want to kiss you. I’d like to fuck you, too, but—”

Ichigo pressed his mouth to Shinji’s, partly to get him to shut up and partly before he lost his nerve. Shinji’s mouth was thin, warm under his, lips slightly chapped. Ichigo’s eyes slid closed. He’d thought about this more than once, daydreamed about it even. The reality was nothing like what he’d imagined—for one, Shinji’s breath was very peppery from dinner.

It hardly mattered. It was still so much better than he’d imagined.

When he pulled away, Shinji was gratifyingly dark-eyed. Ichigo licked his lips and heat spread throughout his body as Shinji’s eyes followed the motion of his tongue. His skin felt tender and too tight over his bones.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

Shinji blinked and shivered, regaining his equilibrium. “Why didn’t you?”

Ichigo took that as an answer. He’d never wanted to risk the friendship they’d had, so sure that Shinji would never see him the same way. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well,” he said. “I might be an idiot, but so are you.”

Shinji laughed and leaned into Ichigo. Ichigo enjoyed the warm weight of him, his smell and presence. Four days had felt like a very long time.

“Don’t disappear on me like that again,” Shinji said. “Freaked me out a little. Hiyori said I was going stir-crazy.”

Ichigo snorted. “I’m pretty sure I was just as bad,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning on leaving you if I can help it.”

Shinji’s smirk was wicked. “Is that a fact, Ichi?”

Ichigo turned to look him directly in the eyes. “It is.”

**Author's Note:**

> **coda**
> 
> Ichigo rolled his eyes at Uryuu’s dramatic groan. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about now,” he said as Shinji draped over his back, propping his chin on Ichigo’s shoulder. “We figured it all out and you were right in the end. I thought you liked being right.”
> 
> Uryuu usually did. It made him all smug. But right now he had his head on the table, despairing.
> 
> “I thought it was bad enough before,” Uryuu said mournfully. “Now that you’re actually dating, you’re even worse. Ichigo, I don’t think we can see each other anymore. Platonically speaking, I mean.”
> 
> “Now, now Ishida,” Shinji said cheerfully. “Don’t be like that. I was going to have you be the best man at our wedding!”
> 
> “What?”


End file.
